


Bathroom Ballet

by kelark59



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Because most of my stuff is WAY better than this I promise, Crack, GO READ ONE OF MY OTHER STORIES, Gen, I accidentally double-dosed myself on cough medicine, I don't know what just happened, If I were you I would blame my friends, Very very crack, YOU'LL ENJOY IT MORE, seriously don't read this, short and dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelark59/pseuds/kelark59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is very weird and you probably shouldn't read it.  My friends convinced me to upload it, I don't know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathroom Ballet

**Author's Note:**

> I would highly recommend that you do not read this. My friends and I were screwing around on OnVerse, and I found out that I can make my characters dance, and then I forgot my character (who is Greg Lestrade) and left him ballet dancing in front of his toilet for like twenty minutes. And then I wrote some weirdo fanfiction for it, and they managed to convince me to post it. You have been fairly warned how horribly weird this is going to be.

Sherlock knocked four times, at equal interval in his usual pattern, on the front door to the flat of one Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.  After several moments when nobody answered, he huffed and pressed his ear to the door.   _He’s definitely here.  His car was in the lot, and his flat hasn’t been locked or unlocked in at least thirteen- no, fourteen- hours.  Not in the shower, because the pipes in the hall aren’t creaking like they would in a building this age, and not in bed, because he snores.  Why won’t he answer the door?_  He pouted angrily and began to pick the lock.   _Why must I do everything myself?_

 

“Lestrade,” he whined as he entered the flat.  Lestrade wasn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, or his bedroom.  Sherlock scowled and pressed his ear to the bathroom door.  There was a scuffling sound, and Lestrade was humming a Turkish Waltz under his breath, but he wasn’t using the bathroom, in the shower, or standing at the sink.  Sherlock opened the door to find the man... dancing.

 

Ballet dancing, to be most precise.   _Adagio.  Arabesque.  Oh, my, now Grande Jetê.  This is a rather small space, why is he doing Grande Jetê in his bathroom?_   “What the hell, Sherlock?” Greg exclaimed when he saw him, falling and hitting his head against the wall.  “Ow, Jesus,” he groaned, rubbing at his head.  Sherlock held out a hand for him to help him up.

 

“I elect that we never speak of this again,” Greg huffed after a moment, and Sherlock’s eyelashes fluttered.  “Trust me, Lestrade, I am already quite in the process of deleting it.”

  
And thus, they never mentioned the ‘Bathroom Ballet’ incident again.


End file.
